


Catbread on the Town

by der_tanzer



Series: Catbread [17]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:04:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone needs a little time off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catbread on the Town

**Author's Note:**

> No orgies or group sex, but everybody gets some action this time.  
> 

"I still don't know why you want to do this. Especially with a broken arm."

"It's been three weeks, Lieutenant. It barely even hurts. And that's why I want to do it. I hardly get to leave the house, no one will let me drive, I can't go on stakeouts or anything. The last fun thing I got to do was testify at Chas Bowman's sentencing."

"That was fun?"

"No. That's the point. Come on, please?" He turned sideways on the sofa, pulling his left knee up and planting his bare foot a little too close to Quinlan's hip to be ignored. It took a while to come out, but he'd recently discovered that Quinlan rather liked his feet. He apparently thought they were sexy, and Murray was getting good at using that.

"I don't know, kid. Are you really up for it?" His hand dropped absently to rub the top of Murray's foot, but his eyes were on the padded splint on his arm.

"It's not a boxing match, Ted. I hardly even use the sling anymore and the doctor said I could take the splint off in a couple days. Look, you said the worst part of the whole thing was having to hide how you felt, having to act not-gay in front of everyone. So wouldn't it be fun to go someplace where we can act gay and not have to worry?"

"That wasn't the worst part," he said, sidestepping the question. "You almost bleeding to death in that ambulance was worse."

"Okay, but not being able to comfort me properly was pretty bad. Come on, it's just dancing. You like dancing, don't you?"

"Sometimes," he hedged. "But I've never danced with a man before."

"It's pretty much the same. I'll let you lead."

"Never danced with anyone taller than me, either."

Murray came close to saying that was hard to believe and then didn't. He thought that he might be winning and didn't want to screw it up.

"So I'll owe you. Please, Lieutenant? As a personal favor to me?"

"Do I owe you a favor?"

"No, that's why _I'd_ owe _you_. You know, you never did tie me to the kitchen table like you wanted."

"That's true. But I can't do that now with your arm all fucked up."

"It'll be better soon. Think about it," he said, sliding closer and spreading his legs a little more. "You get to tie me up and do whatever you want, and all I'm asking in return is a burger and a little dancing."

"Yeah, like you don't _want_ to be tied up. It's hardly a sacrifice, since you'd let me anyway."

"Okay, I would. I _like_ doing things for you," he shrugged, turning back to the TV and putting his feet up on the footlocker. Quinlan thought of the now concealed bulge in Murray's crotch with real regret.

"Damn it, kid. You really want to do this? You really want to go out and act like a faggot in front of people?"

"Not just people, Ted. Other faggots. People who won't care."

"Yeah, like those kids we ran into on the street didn't care. Just because it's LA, that doesn't make it safe."

"Well, those people won't be in the club, and we won't be hanging on each other in the street this time. I won't have anything to drink, I promise. And Nick and Cody would go, so we'd have safety in numbers."

"You've got it all figured out, don't you?"

"I've been shut up inside for three weeks, Lieutenant. I have a lot of things figured out."

"Like what? You remember the answer to world hunger yet?"

"I'm pretty sure I never had that. But I've solved a lot of programming problems and thought up two new games."

"That's good. Have you figured out if I'm gonna get to fuck you tonight?"

"Oh, that one's easy. I don't even need a computer to calculate the odds."

"Wiseass geek," Quinlan muttered and Murray laughed.

"Do you want to finish the movie?"

"May as well. It's only got ten minutes. And then we need to get to bed if we're going to get up on time tomorrow."

"Speak for yourself," Murray sighed. "I don't have anything to get up for."

"You have those games, don't you?"

"Yeah, I really need to get up at the crack of dawn for that."

"So, you can make my breakfast."

Murray nodded, turning his attention back to the movie. It was _True Grit_ tonight, his favorite John Wayne movie, and he liked the ending a lot. Especially since the writers didn't feel it was necessary to forge a romance between the Duke and the inappropriately young girl, as they'd done in _Hatari_, his second favorite.

When it was over, he got up and went to the bathroom without a word, and Quinlan knew he'd gone a little too far. The kid was right, after all. He wasn't an invalid, but they'd sure been treating him like one since he got out of the hospital. He still had nightmares sometimes, and was still taking the occasional prescription painkiller, even after the staples came out. But he could feed and dress himself and he didn't need the special treatment anymore. It was just hard to stop, after seeing him laid so low for the second time in three months.

Quinlan also knew that he'd be giving in and going to the gay bar or restaurant or whatever it was. He couldn't deny Murray anything, and everyone knew it. It had taken all he had to keep going back to Mexico, and he no longer had it in him to deny Murray even the smallest wish. If the kid wanted something badly enough to ask, he was going to get it.

Of course, that went both ways.

Murray was in bed when Quinlan finished locking up the house, sitting up in the circle of light from the bedside lamp, inspecting the healing scars on his arm. The bayonet had gone all the way through and he'd had staples on both sides, leaving marks like a railroad spur.

"Your arm hurt?" Quinlan asked as he undressed.

"A little. The bones hurt. Or the muscles close to the bones. I'm not sure which."

"Probably both." He got into bed and took Murray's hand, stretching the scarred arm between them. "Does that hurt?"

"Not much. It's okay, Lieutenant. Doctor Huntley said it would ache for a while. It's no big deal."

"Yeah, I know. My leg aches when it gets cold, but it's still miserable. It doesn't hurt less because you expect it, or because you don't have a choice." As he spoke, he massaged around the scars, probing the muscle with such gentleness that even Murray, who had experienced more gentleness from those hands than any other living person, was surprised. It hurt, but it was a good hurt, a soothing hurt, and he let the pain wash over him and then wash away.

"Gosh, Lieutenant, that's better than drugs," he sighed.

"I thought it might be. I'd have done it sooner but it would have hurt too much. You needed to heal up first."

"I'm glad that after all this time we can still surprise each other," Murray said dreamily.

"You surprise me every day, kid. Wanting to go to a fag bar surprises me."

"Doesn't it seem a little—odd—to call it that when you're a fag yourself?"

"It's not an insult unless you mean it to be, or you say it to someone who's gonna be offended. Does it offend you, Bozinsky?"

"No, not when you say it."

"There you go then." He kept massaging until Murray drew his arm away, satisfied that it was as good as it was going get.

"I still don't really think of myself as a fag," Murray said. "And if I'm not, you sure aren't."

"Well, no one looking at the two of us, especially right now, would give a lot of credit to your ideas on the subject, even as scientifically thought out as I'm sure they are."

"Does that mean you think we're queer?"

"It means everyone else is going to, no matter what we think. Personally, I don't give a shit." He took Murray's face in his hands and kissed him, deep and slow, exploring his mouth thoroughly, absorbing the sweet flavor of him.

Murray eased into his lap, wrapping his legs around Quinlan's sturdy body, and pressed close without breaking the kiss. He slipped his left arm behind Quinlan's neck, where it would be safe, and grasped his stiffening cock in his right hand. The lieutenant gasped softly and his hands fell to Murray's hips, pulling him closer, moaning as their cocks rubbed together and Murray's long fingers flexed around both.

"That's good, kid," he whispered against Murray's neck. He loved it when the skinny man was on top, thrusting against him, hot and strong with desire, reminding him always of the first time, when he'd discovered that the object of his lust was obtainable after all.

"Yeah? You like that, Lieutenant?" he murmured, his arm tightening around Quinlan's neck. Biting his throat, breathing warm and moist in his ear as he moved faster, harder, making Quinlan groan and curse and finally come, bucking and pulsing in Murray's hand. Murray caught his mouth in a desperate, hungry kiss, held him tight, held them together, the only sound his own low moans and the wet slide of his hand on their cocks. He was close, right on the edge, but he couldn't quite make it and didn't know why. In a minute it would start to hurt his lover and he would have to quit. But it already hurt him and only finishing would ease the ache, so deep and unreachable, like the pain in his arm.

"Come on, kid, you can do it," Quinlan urged, slipping his hand between them, cradling Murray's shaft so their hands overlapped. "Come on, baby, that's right. That's good. God, I'm finished and it's still good."

That must have been the thought Murray needed. His spine stiffened, his hands clenched and he came with a stifled cry, his face pressed hard against Quinlan's neck. For a long time they just sat there, wrapped around each other, blinking and panting and feeling good.

It was Murray who broke the spell by reaching for the tissues. They cleaned themselves off and lay down together, Murray holding his left arm carefully on his chest. Quinlan stroked it once, very lightly, asking him if it hurt much, and was satisfied when he said no. But he still stayed awake until Murray went to sleep, just to be sure.

***

In the dream, Murray couldn't move fast enough. He saw the bayonet, exactly like Ted's and Nick's and Cody's, exactly like the one issued to every GI in Vietnam, so familiar that he couldn't understand. He saw it coming and knew what it would feel like, piercing his arm and cracking his bones. That knowledge made him move too slowly, more fearful of the pain he knew than of that which he didn't, and only raised his arm because it seemed necessary. He didn't do it himself, it was done for him, as if drawn by a string. But always too late.

The blade skimmed over his arm, slicing deep without slowing, and plunged between his ribs. Murray felt his heart stop, felt the air leave his body for the last time, and leapt awake shrieking, thin and breathless in the dark.

Quinlan shot upright beside him, instantly alert, and pulled him close, pressing Murray's head to his shoulder with one broad hand. The skinny man was trembling, almost hyperventilating, and he knew which dream it had been. There were a few different scenarios, but only the one where the knife went into his chest made him breathe like this.

"Shh," he whispered, fingers working in Murray's hair. "Shh, baby, it's okay. It's just a dream; you're okay."

After a minute, Murray drew a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. But he still wanted to be comforted and didn't try to pull away. Quinlan felt him calming down and knew the worst was over, but went on petting him until the trembling stopped.

"He got me right in the heart this time," Murray whispered.

Quinlan lay down with him, pulling the blankets up to his neck to cut the chill, and massaged his arm without being asked. He knew that no matter where the knife landed in the dream, it always made the real injury ache, just as dreams of war hurt Quinlan's leg.

"It's okay," he said again. "You're okay."

"I know. At least it wasn't the one where he cut my throat. I really hate that one."

"I bet you do. But it's gonna get better. The dreams are gonna stop real soon."

"You don't know that."

"They always do, kid. They might come back from time to time, once or twice a year, when you've been thinking about it too much, but the worst will pass soon."

"Are you going to tell me it just takes time?"

"No. You already know that. Can you sleep now?"

"I—I ought to go to the bathroom. Maybe get a drink of water." He slid out of bed and put on his robe, shivering a little although the night was warm. Quinlan waited, staring into the dark, hoping he'd told the truth. Murray'd had a shit year so far and if some of the bounce had gone out of him, it was no surprise. But he would get past it eventually. Quinlan would make sure of it, somehow. He began when Murray returned and got into bed.

"Feel better?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm okay." He turned his back, hoping it wouldn't be taken wrong, and it wasn't. Quinlan moved closer, easing one arm beneath Murray's neck and the laying the other across his body.

"Good. I love you, Murray."

"I know, Ted. I love you, too."

***

The club was crowded on Saturday night. The four men from King Harbor sat at a corner table, as far from the stage as they could get, having their dinner and listening to the mediocre music the DJ played. In a half hour or so, _The Hard Times Blues Band_ was going to take the stage and the dancing would begin in earnest. For now, people were mostly drinking and waiting, watching the few couples who danced desultorily around the edges of the floor.

Murray was fascinated by all of it, his first real experience with homosexuals in any number. Most of them were men in their twenties and thirties, handsome and flirty, some in semi-formal clothes and some in jeans and t-shirts. There were a few women, mostly tough looking girls with very short hair and handcuffs fastened to their belt loops. The men and women didn't dance together, even when they were obviously friends, and he wondered about that.

"What are you staring at, kid?" Quinlan finally asked.

"Well, it's very interesting. I'd thought that in a place like this, anyone could dance with anyone else. You know, guys and girls could dance together if they wanted to. If they were friends. Straight people don't do that, men don't dance with other men, no matter how close they are, but that's a societal thing, right? I guess I didn't realize that there was a whole different set of societal rules here. It's fascinating, really."

"Everything is a closed society, Murray," Cody said with a shrug. "Gay people complain about being excluded, but the truth is, they're just as exclusive as everyone else. Didn't you see the sign by the door when we came in? No Overt Heterosexual Behavior."

"Oh. I thought that was a joke. So you can be straight outside or gay in here? That's it? What about bisexuals?"

"I guess they have to alter their behavior to fit the location," Nick said.

"Hmm. I had no idea. I guess I thought being part of a persecuted minority made people more tolerant."

"Tolerant people are tolerant, whatever their preferences are, and vice versa," Cody said.

"What he means," Quinlan interrupted, "is that assholes come in every stripe. Now eat your supper and write your damn dissertation later."

"I might," Murray grinned. "It really is fascinating. I really thought that people were just people, you know? I mean, I knew that race and ethnicity could divide people, or at least make people of similar backgrounds want to stick together, but I had no idea it applied to sexual preferences. You and Nick don't associate only with other gay people. You seem to like everyone, and I've seen you dance with girls."

"Well, Murray, we're tolerant," Nick said. "And we like dancing with girls. Anyway, out there in the real world, if a man wants to dance, he _has_ to dance with girls."

"That's part of why they don't in here," Cody added. "Gay people want to be comfortable here, and too much heterosexual behavior would make them feel threatened. If you want to be straight, you can do it anywhere else in the world. This is where you go to be gay. I thought you knew that, Boz. Isn't that why you wanted to come?"

"Well, yes. I just didn't realize that it was only gays who could be themselves. I thought it was everyone. Is there a place like that, do you think?"

"Yeah, home," Nick said and everyone laughed except Murray, who was thinking it over.

"I wonder how you tell who the couples are here."

"What do you mean?" Cody asked. It looked fairly obvious to him.

"Well, most places, when you see a man and a woman together, they're a couple. If you see two women together, you can try to pick up one of them, right? But there are all kinds of groups here and I can't tell who's with whom. If a guy comes to pick up someone, how does he know who's available?"

"What's the matter, kiddo? You looking for someone else to take you home tonight?" Quinlan asked and Murray blushed.

"No, of course not. It's just interesting. It makes me wonder if there are a lot of fights, like you see when a guy tries to pick up another guy's girl, or if they understand the problem better. Maybe it's more civilized, like _oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were together_ and the date says _oh, no, quite all right_."

"I don't have any idea," Cody said. "But the evening's young. I'm sure if we stay long enough, you'll have a chance to see it firsthand."

"But no experimenting," Nick said firmly. "Don't you go asking people to dance just to see what happens. And for god's sake, don't start interviewing people. Just put the science on hold and enjoy yourself for a change."

"But I like talking to people."

"Do you like getting your ass kicked?" Quinlan asked, not unkindly.

"Well, not so much."

"Then watch what you say. In fact, let's just agree right now not to let Bozinsky go off by himself at all."

"Good idea," Nick said and Cody nodded. Murray looked from one to the other, then took a drink of his Coke.

"I'm never really going to fit in anywhere, am I?" he asked quietly. "No one is really my kind."

Nick started to protest, intending to tell him that they were his kind, that he fit in with them, but it would have been a lie. Well-intentioned, but still a lie. Quinlan saw it and shook his head.

"Kid, the only way to fit in completely with any group is to have one or fewer layers to your personality. And if that were the case, I wouldn't like you."

Murray smiled, blushing faintly.

"Okay, I won't interview anyone," he said. "But you have to dance with me."

"Sure, kid. If they play something I can dance to. I haven't heard it yet."

"_The Hard Times_ will," Cody said. "They do some—power ballads, I think they're called. I saw them last year when I went home to visit my mom. She set me up with some girl who had tickets."

"You really need to tell your mom that you're off the market," Nick grumbled, as he always did.

"I'm not going into that now. I've told her not to set up the dates, and I've never so much as kissed one of those girls, so let's just drop it."

"Wait, you've been shacked up with this guy for ten years and your mommy thinks you're still waiting for the right girl?" Quinlan laughed. "That's just great."

"Twelve years," Nick said and Cody kicked him under the table.

"Easy for you to talk," Cody said to Quinlan. "Would you tell your mom?"

"My mother was a Southern Baptist from Alabama, and not living to see what I've come to is the nicest thing she ever did for either of us. I'd tell my kid, though, if he didn't hang up the phone as soon as I said hello."

"You would?" Murray said, pleased. "Gosh, that's nice. I kind of thought you wouldn't want to own me. You know, at least not with him."

"I guess I don't care much what he thinks. I'd like to talk to him, find out how things are going, maybe ask him if I'm a grandfather yet. But I wouldn't bother to lie about my life. I've done without him this long; I don't really have anything to lose."

"Well, I do," Cody said. "I _like_ my mother. Just like Murray does his."

"I only hid it for a year," Murray said defensively. "And that was just because it was so complicated. If Ted hadn't died, I'd have told them a long time ago."

"Well, your mother _likes_ you," Cody sighed. "Mine isn't exactly one to embrace people's differences."

"She likes you," Nick scoffed.

"Well, she _loves_ me. Liking's a little different, and I'm never completely sure where I stand on that. Now let's drop this already. I'm going to the can." He left the table abruptly and Nick followed him a moment later.

"This is the one place you're gonna see men going to the bathroom in groups," Quinlan said quietly. "And you're not allowed to go there alone, either."

"I'm not?"

"Unless there's a good lock on the door, I think you'll want someone to watch your back."

"Wow. This really _is_ exciting. But all these men are so—so _sexy_. I've never seen this many sexy people all in one place. No one is going to look twice at me."

"I don't know," Quinlan shrugged. "You look pretty good. I like that shirt."

Cody had taken him shopping in preparation for this adventure and talked him into getting a nice silk shirt, white with silvery threads, and a pair of well cut black slacks. He even had new glasses—not quite fashionable, but at least not taped. No one would have mistaken him for anything but a geek, but he was a cute geek and Quinlan had seen a few people checking him out. He thought about getting jealous, and decided to be proud, instead.

"Thanks," Murray said, still blushing, and Quinlan leaned over and kissed him. It was the first time he'd ever done so in public and he was surprised at how good it felt. The man who'd been staring at Murray turned away with a scowl and the kiss turned into something almost victorious.

Cody was waiting alone outside the men's room and Nick joined him, slipping an arm around his waist, both possessive and apologetic.

"Man, I'm sorry I brought up your mom. You know I don't really care; I wouldn't want to tell my grandma, either. I just get—jealous, I guess, when I think of her setting you up with all those pretty little debs."

"Yeah, well, I'm getting too old for pretty little debs anyway. Remember, the last time it was a divorced woman with two kids in boarding school. Can you see me with a woman who won't raise her own kids?"

"Honestly? No."

The door opened then and three young men came out, drunk and giggling, holding onto the wall as they staggered away. One of them pinched another and all three of them nearly fell down.

"I hope Murray sees that," Cody grinned. "He'll find it _fascinating_."

Nick laughed, already thinking about what they were going to look like, coming out of there in a few minutes.

Inside the bathroom, the door had a weak slide bolt instead of a proper lock. It would impossible to open from the outside, but not too hard to break in case of an emergency, and Nick realized that was what the fire ax outside must be for. Next to the sink was a machine that dispensed condoms and packets of lube, and he wondered aloud what they sold in the women's.

"No idea, babe," Cody said, unzipping his fly. "So, did you follow me in here to watch me take a leak?"

"If that's the best we can do." But Nick wasn't watching. He was at the mirror, finger-combing his hair, just waiting. When Cody finished and came over to wash his hands, Nick grabbed him and pushed him up against the sink. Maybe it was the idea of being in a public place, or maybe it was the atmosphere of sex that hung in the air, but Nick was already hard and his insistence made Cody just as eager. Knowing there were going to be people waiting helped, too.

Nick caught his lover's mouth in a furious kiss, forcing his legs apart and humping him ineffectually through their jeans. Cody pushed him back just enough to reach between them and get their flies open, pulling their shirts up out of the way so they could feel each other's skin. He gasped, stealing Nick's breath as the smooth hardness of their cocks rubbed together, bucking frantically, desperate for more.

Nick grabbed the edge of the sink and thrust against him, his lips traveling down Cody's jaw and latching onto the base of his neck. Cody's hands were on his hips, inside his jeans, pulling him closer as they ground together in a frenzy.

"Oh God," Cody moaned, his head falling back and exposing more of his throat to bite and suck. "God, Nick, _fuck_. Oh _fuck_." That was all it took for Nick to come, their bodies pressed so tightly together that Cody felt every pulse and spurt before coming himself.

"Holy shit, that was hot," Cody laughed, reaching for the paper towels. "Hang on, buddy. You don't want to get any on your shirt or people will know what you've been up to in here."

"Yeah, because this place is all about subtlety," he said, but wiped his belly very carefully before zipping his pants. "Anyway, these kids have been looking at us like we're their grandfathers ever since we came in. I don't mind letting them know the old men can get it on in the can just as well as they can."

"Speaking of subtlety," Cody grinned and turned back to wash his hands. "But I'm glad you're having a good time."

"I am. Except I kind of want to go to sleep now."

"Too bad. We promised Murray a night on the town and it's not even eight o'clock yet."

"Well, maybe we can come back in here later and you can wake me up a little," Nick teased, biting the back of Cody's neck.

"Sounds like a plan. But right now we ought to see how Murray's doing. Ted's probably ready to go home, too. I can't imagine him really being into a scene like this."

There were a half dozen guys waiting in the hall when they came out and Cody blushed helplessly under their appraising eyes. But there was no judgment on their faces, only varying degrees of jealousy and approval. Nick smiled, as much to himself as to anyone who might be looking at him, and put his arm around Cody again.

Out in the main room, the band was warming up and most of the crowd had moved to the bar for one more drink before the dancing started in earnest. Murray and Quinlan were still at the table, their chairs a little closer together now, sharing a bottle of beer. Murray had one leg draped across the lieutenant's knees and Quinlan was massaging his thigh with one hand.

"I don't know, Cody," Nick said with a wicked grin. "It looks to me like LT's having a good time."

"If that was anyone but Murray, it would just be weird."

"Well sure. Murray's his guy. If it was anyone else, we'd have to kill him."

"That's not what I mean," Cody said, not sure how to explain it. "I don't think I could imagine Ted with any guy besides Murray, ever. I mean, imagine if we'd seen him with someone else that first time. What would you have thought?"

"Same think I thought when it was Murray. That the poor sucker was being used. But I kinda get what you mean. I probably wouldn't have changed my mind if it was anyone else."

The conversation ended when they reached the table. Murray grinned every bit as wickedly as Nick had and remarked that they'd been gone an awfully long time. Quinlan pinched his thigh in reproof and Murray elbowed him gently in the ribs.

"There's a lot to do in there, Boz. It's like Disneyland without the clean toilets," Nick said.

"Sounds inviting," Quinlan said dryly, catching Murray's arm before he could elbow him again, and then just held his hand with the one not stroking his thigh.

_The Hard Times Blues Band_ wasn't really blues, and Quinlan was of the opinion that it wasn't much of a band, either, but the music was loud and people seemed to be enjoying it. Murray learned a lot about the dynamics of homosexual relationships in a public setting when young men repeatedly hit on Cody, asking him to dance and occasionally inviting him to join them in the bathroom, sometimes in groups of three or four. Nick was included a couple of times, until he adopted an expression that plainly said _no_ to any questions before they were asked. Murray began to get the idea that the four of them comprised the only two committed couples in the place, and after an hour or so, that commitment made him feel more out of place than being gay ever had. But he was in love in a way that these other people weren't, and though he managed not to feel superior, he did feel a little bad for them.

Eventually, Cody talked Nick into dancing with him and Murray forgot everyone else. They were so beautiful together, it seemed almost sacrilegious when someone tried to cut in. That only happened a few times before Nick really began to look dangerous enough to overcome any amount of temptation. Murray couldn't help laughing at him, and even Cody seemed amused. Quinlan wasn't interested in anything but Murray's laughter and went on stroking his thigh, tickling him whenever his smile faded.

"I sure wish you'd dance with me," Murray said, bemoaning the one thing his indulgent lover suddenly saw fit to deny him. "I'm really not that bad."

"Well, I am. I don't know how to dance to this shit, kid. It's not even made for dancing."

"No, not the kind you're used to. But all those other guys seem to have the hang of it. You just do what they're doing."

"I don't want to do what they're doing," he said flatly.

"Okay, fine. I'm going to get another beer." Murray took his leg back and got up, shaking his clothes out a little to hide the persistent semi-erection that Quinlan had been nursing all evening. At the bar, he asked for a bottle of Coors and waited for the sleek young man to pop the cap for him and get his change.

"Excuse me," someone said, touching his arm lightly. "Dr. Bozinsky? Is that you?"

Murray turned around, startled and oddly ashamed, as if he'd been caught committing an act of public indecency just by being here. But the two young men were smiling, one bravely and one a little bit awed.

"Yes?" he said shakily.

"See, I told you it was him," the brave young man said. "I took your class in robotics at UCLA. And Chris here, he had to repeat an entire semester because he spent the whole year, and I mean fucking _all_ of it, playing _Bozzer and the Brickbats_."

"Wow, really? I mean, that's very flattering, but you really shouldn't neglect your schoolwork like that. Your education is very important." Then the bartender handed him his beer and he felt like a complete hypocrite, as if he had a big test in the morning that he should be studying for.

"Yeah, that's what my mom said." The young man's expression changed from awed to vaguely ashamed and then Murray really felt bad.

"Well, you wouldn't do it again, I'm sure. No one plays that anymore anyway, do they?"

"It may not be mainstream," the one who'd taken his class said, "but it's a total classic. We mostly play _Princess of the Deep_ these days. I think it's one of your best ever."

"Really? That's nice to hear. The distributors were disappointed with the sales last quarter; they want me to go back to the trivia type stuff."

"No, man, sales always drop over the summer. Wait'll the kids are back in school. It's the word of mouth that makes a classic. I'm Chad, by the way. In case you don't remember."

"Oh. No, actually I didn't. I'm sorry; it was such a big class…"

"Hey, no problem. So what are you doing here, anyway? The way you were chatting up the nerd girls in class, we kind of figured you were, like, into girls."

"Oh. Well, yes, I suppose—at the time, that is—I—well, this is all a little bit new."

"Jeez, don't freak him out," Chris said, nudging his friend sharply in the ribs.

"No, it's all right. I'm just not exactly what you'd call _out_, yet. I don't think. I wasn't really prepared to run into anyone I knew."

"No, that's cool," Chad said. "Your secret's safe with us. So, were you maybe hoping to meet someone you _don't_ know?"

"Hmm? No, I—I'm here with someone. Which is good, because I think I'm way too old for everyone here."

"Not everyone," Chris said helpfully, pointing out the trio at Murray's table. "There're some old guys over there."

"Yes, I know them," he said, unable to hold back a smile. He caught Quinlan's eye and waved coyly, causing the lieutenant to get up and come to him at once.

"Jeez, Chris, who else would he be with? Use your head, man."

"What's up, kid?" Quinlan asked, easing around the young men to put his arm around Murray and steal his beer. "These punks giving you trouble?"

"No, Lieutenant. Chad was in a class I taught, and Chris is a fan of my games."

"Shit. You can find fellow geeks anywhere, can't you?"

"Yes, I like to think so," Murray said cheerfully. "Don't mind him, guys. He's cranky but harmless."

"Harmless? Are you talking about me, Bozinsky?"

"Okay, you're extremely dangerous," Murray grinned and took back the bottle.

"That's better. So, you boys know his work pretty well, do you?"

They both nodded enthusiastically but it was Chad who spoke.

"Dr. Bozinsky is one of the top minds in the field. It was a real honor just getting into his class, and he's such a great teacher. Everyone loved him. Is that how you know each other? Are you into computers, too?"

"Shit. I don't know the first thing about that stuff. I'm a cop," he said, as if the two were mutually exclusive.

"Well, evolving technology is a young man's game," Chris said and Chad elbowed him this time.

"Yeah, it is," Quinlan agreed, momentarily at a loss. Then the music slowed, segueing into _As Tears Go By_ and he breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"Finally, a decent song," he said, aware of how old that made him sound and not caring. "Come dance with me, kid."

There were only a couple swallows of beer left in the bottle and Murray finished it off, said goodbye to the students and followed him onto the dance floor.

"You must have really wanted to get away from them," he whispered, snuggled up close and liking it.

"Wanted to get you away from them is more like it. Before you started wondering why you're with me instead of some good looking nerd-boy who knows all about computers."

"I don't like boys, Lieutenant. I only like men."

"But they _are_ good looking. And a hell of a lot smarter than me."

"Better educated, maybe, but probably not smarter. And they may be cute, for nerds, but better looking goes both ways. You could do better than me, too."

"I'm not the famous inventor that everyone wants to know."

"Stop it, Ted. Jealousy doesn't become you," he murmured, giving Quinlan's ear a little lick.

He started to speak and Murray stopped him with a kiss, intending just to end the discussion, but Quinlan took it farther and suddenly they were in full make-out mode in the middle of the dance floor. The two students couldn't help staring, stunned by the sight of the great Dr. Bozinsky leg humping a middle aged cop to the tune of an old Rolling Stones song. Either of them would have been thrilled to be in Quinlan's place, and had he not been there, they would definitely have tried to get Murray into the bathroom. Chad especially was wishing he'd known there was a chance back when he was attending those weekly robotics lectures. If he'd thought the professor could be turned, he'd have been trying two years ago.

Murray had forgotten that anyone was watching at all. He was lost in the moment, the man, and the music that could have been playing just for them. His arms were tight around Quinlan's neck, and the other man held him just as hard, one hand pressed to the middle of his back and the other firmly kneading his ass.

Watching from their table in the far corner of the room, Nick leaned over to Cody and said, "It doesn't look they're gonna make it to the bathroom. That means I win the bet."

"No, you have five after nine. If they get done sooner than that, no one wins."

"I have the earlier time. So if it's earlier than that, I win. If it's in the middle—"

"No, Nick. Damn it, you do this every time," Cody said with mock frustration. "If it's not your time, you don't win."

"No, Cody, it's whoever's closest. You can't be closest if it's before me, just like you win if it's any time after nine-thirty."

"You always try to cheat, like Murray said. You tried to cheat him at Hearts and now you're trying to fix your bet. What is it with you? You just always have to win."

"Uh, Cody, what time is it now?"

"I don't know, looks like about ten to nine. Why?"

"Because they're gone."

"Shit. So nobody won."

"No, I did. It's closest to my time, so I—"

If Murray had heard that discussion, he would have been more amused than offended. But he was in line for the bathroom by the time they noticed he was gone, pinned to the wall in the dark hallway, on the verge of coming in his pants and not interested in anyone or anything else. Still, he was able to register relief when the door opened and the guy who came out tapped him on the arm.

"Your turn, dude," he said with a grin and Quinlan straightened up just enough to pull Murray inside and lock the door. Then he grabbed the narrow hips and shoved Murray against the wall under the open window. His hand went to Murray's belt, working to unbuckle it and almost too distracted by the throbbing erection beneath to manage.

"God, Ted, I'm so hard it hurts," he sighed, angling his body a little to make his lover touch him more. But that didn't help with the distraction, and after a few seconds Murray pushed his hands away and did it himself while Quinlan unbuttoned his shirt. There wasn't time for teasing or foreplay; they'd been doing that all night, anyway. Now there was only time for this, bodies pressed hard together, shirts hanging open, pants around their ankles, devouring each other's mouths as they fucked, as hard and fast and quiet as they could.

Murray let himself slide down the wall just a little so they were the same height and gripped Quinlan's ass in both hands, jerking him closer with surprising strength. Quinlan tore away from the kiss and shifted to bite his throat, sucking great bruises just beneath his ear and down to his collar.

"Ted…oh, God, Ted," he whispered. "Oh, _fuck_…Ted…"

The soft litany was Quinlan's undoing and he came suddenly, pushing hard against Murray's soft belly, biting him sharply to stifle a groan. Murray thrust eagerly into the slick heat between them, looking for his own release, and was momentarily stunned when Quinlan pulled away. But he didn't go far. Dropping into a crouch, he took Murray's aching hard cock in his mouth and sucked him to a quick and frenzied climax before the startled man could stop him.

When he rose, Murray was shaking and Quinlan wet a paper towel to clean him up before fixing his clothes.

"Okay, kid?" he asked, his smile more ironic that concerned this time.

"Yeah. But you know—you know I don't like that."

"Really? Because you sure came fast enough."

"No, I _like_ it. I just…"

"You don't feel worthy. Well, that's bullshit. Half the guys in this place would feel like it was a privilege to suck your dick."

"For them, it might be. But they're not you."

"Who gives a shit? I like it, you like it, that's all that matters."

"I don't like looking down on you," he said quietly, moving to wash his hands. Touching the walls in here seemed like an iffy proposition at best.

"You're two inches taller than me, kid. You look down on me all the time."

That made Murray smile. "You really like it?" he asked shyly.

"I wouldn't do it if I didn't."

Murray kissed him quickly, almost gratefully, and they went out, leaning slightly on each other as most men did when leaving the bathroom. Chad and Chris were in line and Murray was embarrassed to see them, but they just smiled. If he could have heard the conversation that passed between them a moment later, he would have felt better about a lot of things.

"I wonder if he's going to come out for real," Chris said thoughtfully. "Because that could be a good story."

"No way, dude. We can't sell him out. We said we'd keep his secret."

"Well, yeah, but he'd never know it was us."

"Sure he would," Chad argued. "_Everyone_ would know. If we said we saw him here, people would know _we_ were here. I'm not exactly out, either, you know. My mom would shit kittens if she found out."

"Yeah, I guess," Chris said reluctantly.

"Besides, we should protect him if we can. He's a queer nerd in a he-man world, dude. He's one of us."

When they got back to the table, Nick was nursing his fifth beer and Cody was looking at his watch.

"You lost me five bucks," he said, standing up before Murray could sit.

"What? How'd I do that?"

"Nick welshed on our bet. Are you guys about ready to go? It's getting kind of late."

"Sure," Murray shrugged. "But I still don't understand what you were betting on. What did I do?"

"Forget it," Quinlan said, giving Cody a very unpleasant glare. Murray looked from one to the other, started to speak again, and then didn't when Quinlan squeezed his hand.

"Come on, Nick, we're going," Cody said, nudging him rather sharply.

"Yeah, I'm coming. And I didn't welsh on you, you just didn't win."

"Sure, nobody won. Because that's how bets work."

"Both of you shut the hell up or you can walk home," Quinlan said. They'd brought his car and he was the only one not technically intoxicated, Murray's promise not to drink having been long forgotten, so it was a valid threat.

"Do you know what they're talking about?" Murray asked him. "Because I'm really confused."

"It doesn't matter, babe. They're just being assholes."

Murray turned to his friends with puzzled eyes, wondering if they were really being assholes at his expense. Both looked vaguely ashamed and he decided they probably were. Then he realized what they must have been betting on and smiled.

"Serves you right if neither of you won. That's not gentlemanly behavior at all," he said and walked away, still holding Quinlan's hand.

"Pretty righteous lecture from a guy who just had sex in a public bathroom," Nick muttered, standing and letting Cody hold him up.

"Yeah, well, so did we."

There were a surprising number of people on the street but no one looked twice at the two men walking hand in hand, or the two behind them with their arms around each other. In this neighborhood, at this time of night, it would have been more unusual had they not been touching each other. Murray was still fascinated, but he didn't have to be told not to stare or ask questions this time. He just looked around and smiled, feeling a vague and peaceful sense of belonging.

In the car, Quinlan asked him if he'd had a good time and he said he did. In fact, he wanted to come back soon. Maybe the next time there was a good band playing.

"I hope by good, you mean better than those idiots tonight."

"They weren't that bad. But, yes."

"So did you find what you were looking for?" Cody asked from the back seat. "Did you ever feel like you fit in?"

"Yeah, I kind of did. Those guys were awfully pretty for me; definitely more like your kind of people. But some of them were okay."

"Good for you, buddy. I'm glad," he said and settled back to let Nick sleep on his shoulder. The drive home was long but quiet, and Murray's feeling of peace remained unbroken.


End file.
